


carry me softly

by redledgers



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hair Braiding, Wing Grooming, Wings, softness!, what else do you expect from me, wings and softness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:23:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21707413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redledgers/pseuds/redledgers
Summary: His wings are splayed, settled lightly against the cushions, inviting and vulnerable. Chloe sits astride him, fingers carding through the feathers at the arch of his wing.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 43
Kudos: 305





	carry me softly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [incalyscent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/incalyscent/gifts).



“Mmm, hold still.”

Lucifer’s head lolls back against her couch, eyes heavy lidded. His wings are splayed, settled lightly against the cushions, inviting and vulnerable. Chloe sits astride him, fingers carding through the feathers at the arch of his wing. “I couldn’t move even if I desired it,” he responds, his voice a low rumble that sends tremors through her body.

“That’s not true,” Chloe says. She leans down to press her lips to his brow. He only hums in return. Light scatters in the living room, drawn from his wings and reflecting off every glossy surface. It catches on the bullet necklace, and Lucifer’s eyes drop to look. He captures it between his fingers and brings it to his lips, glancing up at her with eyes so soft and dark she feels blanketed in the night sky. Chloe brushes kisses down his cheek, his jaw, tucks her face in the crook of his neck and feels feathers against her calf.

She stays there, nestled against him for what feels like an eternity until she feels his breathing steady and slow beneath her cheek. “Bed?” she asks, shifting her weight back, trailing her fingertips across the cut of his jaw. He follows her hand, and she cups his cheek, letting him nuzzle into it.

He blinks up at her with a soft smile. “You haven’t finished, Detective.” His voice is just shy of a whine, and she huffs out a laugh.

“Fine.” But there’s no anger in her words, only fondness pulled from somewhere she’s almost forgotten. She buries the hand not currently occupied by Lucifer’s face in his hair, scratching his scalp and feeling him shiver beneath her as she trails her nails down the nape of his neck, over his shoulder, and up the arch of his wing. “They’re not all that bad,” she murmurs as she fixes feathers. His fastidious approach to his own appearance extends to his wings, and she has very rarely seen them rumpled unless she had a direct hand in it. But it’s like brushing Trixie’s hair—something that she doesn’t need to do, not anymore, but something she likes to do.

Lucifer does whine when she reclaims her hand from his cheek, but when she buries both hands into his wings, he sags back into the couch. There are several feathers askew just near his ribs, and Chloe idly straightens them. His wings shift against her hands, a gentle plea for more. She gladly gives it, stroking feathers that are already in their proper place, feeling his wings shiver beneath her touch.

In real time, she watches the tension ease from his body. It bleeds away, replaced not by exhaustion, but by wonder as he looks at her through his eyelashes, his own hands gentle on her body. The Devil, putty in her hands, his soft underbelly exposed just for her. The thought sends warmth through her veins, and she feels as if there is a safety blanket on her soul.

“Turn around,” Lucifer murmurs sleepily against her temple. He skates his fingers down her spine, lets them dance over her hips. Chloe does as he asks, though a bit awkwardly, settling again between his thighs. When she is comfortable, his hands move up, gently pressing against her back. It’s a far cry from a real massage, but it’s just enough for her body to feel like jelly as he soothes her tired muscles. When he reaches her shoulders, he brushes her hair over her shoulder. His lips are feather soft against the curve of her neck. “Thank you,” he whispers, and warmth spreads down her body as he begins to card his fingers through her hair.

She would reply, stumble over inadequate words of thanks, but his fingertips brush her scalp, parting locks of hair, and anything she desired to say dies on her tongue with a soft sigh. He keeps one hand in her hair even while his other drops to splay against her back, to press against the tense muscles she will forever have despite his best efforts. His gentleness astounds her, not because it is unexpected, but because it is natural. Her body loosens against his touch, and she lets out a soft sound when he works his way back to her hair, pulling strands gently into a braid before undoing it and re-braiding it into something different.

She has no desire to go to the Silver City, not yet, and, really, not ever if it means she would lose him. But right now, this moment feels a little bit like Heaven. Lucifer’s fingers soon grow idle, tugging gently at loose strands, and Chloe settles against him, resting her head against his shoulder. “Thank you,” he says again, wrapping his arms around her, curling his wings around them. She feels his lips brush against her temple. Beneath her, he is still languid, and she is too. 

She reaches to push her fingers into one of his wings again and hums. “Thank you, Lucifer,” she replies, nudging soft feathers out of place and straightening them out again. “I love you.” The wings shift, and she watches the light dance on the far wall.

The response she gets spreads like warmth through her already warm body. It is gentle, his voice full of wonder. “And I you, Chloe.” 


End file.
